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THE CHILDREN’S BOOK 

OF 

CELEBRATED SCULPTURE 












































































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THE CHILDREN’S BOOK 

OF 

CELEBRATED SCULPTURE 


BY 

LORINDA MUNSON BRYANT 

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Author of “The Children’s Book of Celebrated Pictures,” “Famous 

Pictures of Real Animals,” etc., etc. 



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PUBLISHED BY THE CENTURY CO. 


NEW YORK AND LONDON 


MCMXXIII 




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Copyright, 1923, by 
The Century Co. 



$ <£. ■ &a 

PRINTED IN IT. S. A. 


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To My Son 

FITCH CULBERTSON BRYANT 















































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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Singing Boys. Donatello. Cathedral Museum, Florence.—Title-Page 

FIGURE PAGE 

1. Bambino. Andrea della Robbia. Orphans’ Hospital, Florence 1 

2. Venus de Milo. Louvre, Paris ..3 

3. Homer. Naples Museum, Italy.5 

4. Laocoon. Vatican Museum, Rome.7 

5. The Boy with a Thorn in His Foot. Boethus. Capitol Museum, 

Rome.9 

6. The Thinker. Rodin. Metropolitan Museum of Art . . . . 11 

7. Cheops. Cairo Museum, Egypt.13 

8. Caryatides. The Acropolis, Athens, Greece.15 

9. Death of the Sculptor. French. Forest Hill Cemetery, Boston . 17 

10. The Discus-Thrower. Myron. Vatican Museum, Rome . . . 19 

11. Colleoni and His Horse. Verrocchio. Square of School of St. 

Mark, Venice, Italy.21 

12. Apollo Belvedere. Vatican Museum, Rome.23 

13. Diana and the Stag. Capitol Museum, Rome.25 

14. Abraham Lincoln. Saint-Gaudens. Lincoln Park, Chicago. . . 27 

15. The Bronze Horses. San Marco, Venice, Italy.29 

16. The Wrestlers. Uffizi Museum, Florence, Italy.31 

17. The Wounded Assyrian Lioness. British Museum, London, Eng¬ 

land .33 

18. The Boy with a Goose. Boethus. Munich Museum, Germany . 35 

19. Endymion Asleep. Capitol Museum, Rome.37 

20. Niobe and her Daughter. Uffizi Museum, Florence, Italy ... 39 

21. The Dying Gaul. Capitol Museum, Rome, Italy.41 

22. The Seven-Branched Candlestick. Arch of Titus, Rome, Italy . 43 

vii 














FIGURE PAGE 

23. The Victory of Samothrace. Louvre, Paris, France .... 45 

24. Biscornette Overlooking Paris. Notre Dame, Paris, France . . 47 

25. Pallas Athene. Vatican Museum, Rome, Italy.49 

26. Lion Crushing a Serpent. Barye. Jardin des Tuileries, Paris, 

France.51 

27. Perseus and the Medusa Head. Canova. Vatican Museum, Rome, 

Italy.53 

28. The Wild Boar. Uffizi Gallery, Florence, Italy.55 

29. Meleager. Vatican Museum, Rome, Italy.57 

30. Silenus and Dionysus. Louvre Museum, Paris, France ... 59 

31. Apollo and the Lizard. Vatican Museum, Rome, Italy . . .61 

32. Singing and Dancing Boys. Luca della Robbia. Cathedral 

Museum, Florence, Italy.63 

33. The Ram. Palermo Museum, Sicily.65 

34. David. Michael Angelo. Academy, Florence, Italy .... 67 

35. Sheikh el Beled. Cairo Museum, Egypt.69 

36. Mercury. Naples Museum, Italy.71 

37. The Bronze Wolf. Capitol Museum, Rome, Italy.73 

38. Narcissus. Naples Museum, Italy.75 

39. Hercules. Fogg Museum, Boston.77 

40. The Sphinx. Near Cairo, Egypt.79 

41. Hermes and the Infant Dionysus. Praxiteles. Olympia, Greece 81 

42. Moses. Michael Angelo. S. Pietro in Vincoli, Rome, Italy . . 83 

43. Eros from Centocelle. Vatican Museum, Rome, Italy . . . .85 

44. The Marble Faun. Capitol Museum, Rome, Italy.87 

45. Psyche. Naples Museum, Italy.89 

46. Theseus. Phidias. British Museum, London, England . . .91 

47. Sleeping Ariadne. Vatican Museum, Rome, Italy.93 

48. The Farnese Bull. Naples Museum, Italy.95 

49. Father Nile. Vatican Museum, Rome, Italy.97 

50. Abraham Lincoln. Gutzon Borglum. Newark, New Jersey . . 99 


Vlll 
















Dear Children : 

It pleases me very much that you love “The Children’s Book of 
Celebrated Pictures,” which I made for you last year. I want you 
to love this new book and try to remember the names of the statues 
and the stories about them. 

Some of the men whose likenesses you see in the new book, such 
as Cheops and the Wooden Man, lived six thousand years ago. 
Would you think that Cheops was six thousand years old? His 
dainty little ivory statuette is as lifelike as any miniature of one of 
you made to-day. 

We are learning that the people of long ago were very much like 
us and that they loved pictures just as we do. Many of the pic¬ 
tures, cut in stone and ivory and wood, have withstood for thou¬ 
sands of vears the wear and tear of time and weather and burial 
in the earth. To-day they come forth to show us just how those 
people of old looked, and also to let us know what wonderful ar¬ 
tists were living among them. 

Now turn to statues made by American sculptors and compare 
our beloved “Abraham Lincoln” and “Death” and “The Sculptor” 
with Cheops and Homer. Who could believe that so many, many 
centuries lie between the making of these marvelous works of art! 
Time and nationality do not govern masterpieces; they belong to 
the ages with Abraham Lincoln and Homer. Great masters and 
great masterpieces speak for simplicity and truth. Be simple and 
truthful; then you will know great art. 

With love and best wishes, from your friend, 

Lorinda Munson Bryant. 


BAMBINO 

Andrea della Robbia (1437-1528) 

T HERE is in Florence, Italy, an orphans’ hospital, where un¬ 
til within a few years the babies were nursed by goats. 
When a baby cried the goat mothering that particular 
baby trotted to the crib and, nestling close to the fretting little one, 
gave it a nice warm drink of milk. She seemed to think the 
motherless baby was her own little kid wanting its dinner from 
Nanny-goat. 

Andrea della Robbia, the nephew of Luca della Robbia (see 
page 64) made a number of round glazed medallion reliefs, with a 
bambino—bambino is Italian for baby—in each, dressed in swad¬ 
dling-clothes. The Italian mother dresses the young baby by bind¬ 
ing it in a wide band of cloth—swaddle means to bind. Andrea 
made each little tot very individual. No one would dare say again 
that all babies look alike after seeing his portraits of them. Even 
the straight-band dress acquires the look and character of the baby 
wearing it. 

Andrea has also varied the color of the dress and background of 
his baby medallions, yet most of them are in white on blue back¬ 
ground. Never was there a sweeter company of babies than the 
jolly roly-poly band stretching across the veranda entrance to the 
Foundling Hospital, Florence. For five hundred years these 
babies in majolica medallions have been welcoming homeless 
babies. No wonder that they stand to-day as an emblem of the 
successful care of babies. 


2 






Courtesy cf Pratt Institute 

Fig. i. Bambino. A. della Robbia. 


Cathedral Museum, Florence 





VENUS DE MILO 


T HE proper name of this lovely goddess is “Aphrodite of 
Melos.” Aphrodite was the Greek goddess of love. The 
statue was found by a peasant in a grotto in 1820 and was 
sent as a present to Louis XVIII of France. She is now in the 
Louvre, Paris. 

Aphrodite, or Venus, her Latin name, was very beautiful. But 
there were two other goddesses very beautiful, too. There was 
Athene or Minerva, her Latin name, the goddess of wisdom, and 
Hero or Juno, the queen of all the goddesses and gods. All went 
well until Eris, the goddess of discord, wishing to make trouble 
at a wedding-feast,—where she was not invited,—threw a 
golden apple among the guests, on which was written, “For the 
fairest.” Now trouble began in earnest. Juno, Minerva, and 
Venus all claimed the apple. Even Zeus, the greatest god of all, 
did not dare decide which goddess should have the golden apple. 

But Zeus knew that on Mount Ida was a beautiful shepherd- 
boy, Paris by name, tending his sheep. So Zeus, the coward, sent 
the goddesses to Paris for a decision. Each goddess promised Paris 
special gifts—Juno’s was power and riches; Minerva’s, glory in 
war—but these gifts did not satisfy the nature-loving Paris. Only 
when Venus promised him a wife so fair that none could equal 
her in beauty and charm was the heart of Paris touched. He gave 
the golden apple to Venus; but, alas, Juno and Minerva now 
hated the goddess of love, and out of this gift of the golden apple 
to Venus came the Trojan War. 

As you look at the next picture, “Blind Homer,” I will tell you 
the story of Paris and his beautiful wife, Helen of Troy. 


4 







Fig. 2. Venus de Milo. Louvre, Paris 




HOMER 


N r O story of all time is more thrilling than the story of the 
Trojan War as Homer tells it in the Iliad and Odyssey. 
A number of years ago a little German boy, Henry 
Schliemann, said, after reading Homer, “I am going to find old 
Troy, for I believe there was such a city.” The older people 
laughed at him, but when he grew up he did find old Troy in 
Asia Minor buried under seven towns. Some time I hope you will 
read the story of his digging for old Troy. To-day we can visit 
the ruins of Troy, the city where Paris hid the fairest woman 
whom Venus promised should be his wife. 

I am sorry to say that Paris was not honorable when he visited 
King Menelaus of Sparta, in Greece, for when he saw Helen, 
the king’s beautiful wife, he ran off with her. This mean and 
unjust act of Paris started the Trojan War. Of course the people 
of Sparta wanted their beautiful queen brought back to them, and 
of course the Trojans were determined to keep her. Then, to 
add to the fierceness of the fight, the three goddesses, who con¬ 
tested for the golden apple, took sides. Venus sided with the 
Trojans to save Paris, Minerva and Juno with the Greeks against 
Paris for slighting them. Finally all the gods and goddesses of 
the mythological realm took sides, and the war became a world 
war. 

Now look again at “Blind Homer,” in the Naples Museum, 
Italy. Whoever made the bust certainly understood how to ex¬ 
press the inner vision of a blind poet. See how the lift of the 
eyebrows, the open eyes and slightly raised head tell that the see¬ 
ing mind has visions greater than those of mere physical eye¬ 
sight. 

In the next picture, “Laocoon,” I will tell you more about the 
Trojan War. 


6 




Fig. 3. Homer. Naples Museum, Naples 



LAOCOON 


T HIS group of “Laocoon and His Two Sons” being stran¬ 
gled by the serpents is part of the story of the Trojan 
War. 

When the Greeks found that they were not conquering Troy by 
arms they slyly changed their plans and sent the Wooden Horse 
to them as a gift. The Wooden Horse was so big that it hid in 
its interior a large number of Greek soldiers. When Laocoon, 
the priest of the city of Troy, saw the Wooden Horse standing 
outside the gate of the city he was suspicious and said to the 
Trojans, “I fear the Greeks even when they offer gifts.” He 
struck the sides of the horse with his sword and heard a groan 
come from the inside. But just then a Greek youth—a spy— 
came up all out of breath, exclaiming brokenly, “The Wooden 
Horse—a good omen—an offering to Minerva—made big to keep 
the Trojans—from taking it through the gate!” 

The Trojans believed the messenger rather than Laocoon, their 
priest. The Wooden Horse was taken into Troy, and the hidden 
Greek soldiers came out from the horse and took the city of Troy. 
In the meantime two huge serpents sent by Neptune, the god of 
the sea, strangled Laocoon and his two sons as they were offering a 
sacrifice to save Troy. 

When the mutilated Laocoon group was found in Rome in 1506, 
Michael Angelo saw it uncovered and declared the group “was 
a marvel of art.” If only Michael Angelo could have restored 
the group to its original pyramidal shape, then the raised arm of 
Laocoon would have been thrown back of his neck and the arm of 
the younger son bent close to the father’s side. Maybe some day 
some one will change it. 


8 





Fig. 4. Laocoon. Vatican Museum, Rome 










THE BOY WITH A THORN IN HIS FOOT 

Boethus (Second Century b. c.) 

T HE elder Pliny wrote about this statue of “The Boy Ex¬ 
tracting a Thorn from His Foot.” Pliny was the writer 
whose death was caused by the ashes of Old Vesuvius when 
its eruption destroyed Pompeii in 79 a. d. There are many marble 
and bronze copies of Boethus’ statue, but no one knows what be¬ 
came of the original bronze one. This marble copy in the Capitol 
Museum, Rome, is a charming bit of real life equal to the Dutch 
genre —real life—pictures made more than twelve hundred years 
later (see “Children’s Book of Celebrated Pictures,” page 44). 

We love the homely, tousle-headed peasant boy. Only a mo¬ 
ment ago he was entertaining us with hand-springs while asking 
for pourboire. It seems as if we could hear “ouch” coming from 
his open lips. It is hurting him to pick a thorn out of his foot; 
he has to dig down deep to get hold of it. Try doubling yourself 
up and turning your foot bottom upward. Only a well formed, 
naturally developed child can twist his legs and sit at ease as 
this boy does. He has always gone barefoot, and his legs are as 
agile as a young faun. I want you to look at his shapely foot. 
See how Boethus has shown the perfect foot in the elongated second 
toe. Look at your companions when you go swimming and see 
if they have perfect feet according to Greek statues. This is a 
secret: going barefoot does not spoil the shape of the foot; it only 
strengthens the muscles and keeps the foot shapely in later life. 


10 





Fig. 5. The Boy with a Thorn in his Foot. Boethus. Capitol Museum, Rome 






THE THINKER 

Auguste Rodin (1840-1917) 


T WO great artists have pictured for us the torments of souls 
in the inferno or hell: Dante Alighieri (1265-1321), the 
poet, and Auguste Rodin, the sculptor. Dante gave us 
a word picture and Rodin a bronze picture, and both pictures are 
masterpieces. 

For more than twenty years Rodin worked on the “Door of 
Hell” alone. This solitary figure, “The Thinker,” was designed 
to stand before the entrance of the door above which was written, 
“Abandon hope all ye who enter here!” The original statue 
stands in front of the Pantheon, Paris. This picture is from a 
bronze replica made by Rodin. It is in the Metropolitan Museum 
of Art. 

The people of France were so stupid that they did not know 
how great their own son, Rodin, was. Do you remember how 
stupid we were when we did not buy the picture of Whistler’s 
“Mother” (see page 88, “Children’s Book of Celebrated Pic¬ 
tures”) ? I want you to know the great masterpieces in art. If 
you know them, then you can tell, when you see the work of an 
American painter or sculptor, whether it is a worth-while picture 
or statue. Your honest praise when you really know how to judge 
a work of art will help the artist in his work. You cannot rightly 
judge until you have standards of excellence. The masterpieces 
of the world are your standards. 


12 



Courtesy of Metropolitan Museum of Art 

Fig. 6. The Thinker. Rodin 



CHEOPS 

• 

The Great Pyramid-Builder 

C HEOPS built the Great Pyramid in Egypt about six thou¬ 
sand years ago. And yet we have never known how 
Cheops looked until less than fifty years ago. Dr. 
Flinders Petrie, an English archaeologist, found this tiny 
ivory statuette, only five inches high, at Abydos, Egypt, and on 
it is the name of Cheops. 

Now look well at King Cheops or Khufu, of the fourth dynasty, 
about 4000 b. c., while I tell you a few facts about him. When 
Cheops was building the Great Pyramid for his tomb his laborers 
were his slaves. Of course he controlled millions of lives and 
used the groveling multitude to suit his own fancy. What if he 
did sacrifice hundreds of thousands of souls to build his tomb, 
his word was law! But he finally died and was embalmed. 
From an old Arabic book of twelve hundred years ago we learn 
that after Cheops’s death his crushed subjects rose in their might. 
They burned the embalmed body of this absolute monarch. They 
burned his palaces and all his belongings until nothing remained 
but the Great Pyramid. And not until archaeologists used the 
pick and the shovel was anything known about King Cheops. 

To-day this “Portrait of Cheops” on his ivory throne sits in 
state in the Cairo Museum, Egypt. We nod to him as we pass. 
And why not? This tiny likeness of King Cheops is as alive with 
personal traits as is Mr. John Singer Sargent’s portrait of Mr. 
John D. Rockfeller painted in the twentieth century. 


14 


Fig. 7. Cheops. Cairo Museum, Egypt 












CARYATIDES 


\ 


OR 

Porch of the Maidens 

A CURIOUS story is told of these women supporting the 
“Porch of the Maidens,” on the Acropolis, Athens. One 
of the Greek Cities was Caryae in Arcadia and I am sorry 
to tell you that the people of Caryae were untrue to the patriotic 
Greeks. 

It was about the fifth century before the birth of Jesus, the 
Christ, that the Persians, under the great Xerxes, came down from 
Mesopotamia intending to conquer the people of Greece. And in 
the great battle of Thermopylae, in 480 b. c., the Persians did over¬ 
come Greece. When the Caryans found that Leonidas, King of 
Sparta, was defeated by the vast army of Xerxes they immediately 
joined themselves to the side of the victors, the Persians. It was 
only a year later, however, that the Greeks overcame the Persians 
in the battle of Plataea, 479 b. c. 

To punish the people of Caryae for their treachery, the Greeks 
killed all the Carvan men, and carried the women to Greece and 
made them slaves. But even slavery was not punishment enough 
for these untrue women. The Greek sculptors, still further to 
shame them, made them pose as models for the supporting pillars 
of porches. Now look again at this beautiful “Porch of the 
Maidens.” These pillars became known as Caryatides, natives 
of Caryae. 

Whether this story is true as to the origin of the name we do 
not know, but we do know that never were maidens more 
graceful, more dignified, or more fitted to be burden-bearers than 
these in the “Porch of the Maidens,” on the Acropolis. 


16 



Fig. 8. Caryatides. Acropolis, Athens 































DEATH AND THE SCULPTOR 

Daniel Chester French (1850) 

T HIS young sculptor, in “Death and the Sculptor,” is 
scarcely more than a boy; Martin Milmore is his name. 
How like “David” he is; his curly hair, his firm feet, his 
strong hold of the chisel, and yet—a look of wonder is coming 
over his face, the chisel is slipping from his grasp. What does it 
mean? How gently Death is drawing him toward her. This boy 
sculptor, eager to carve in stone the wonderful pictures in his mind, 
was taken early to the bigger visions he now sees. Mr. French, 
who knows so well what a boy sees ahead of him, gives, in this 
bronze tablet, Forest Hill Cemetery, Boston, a bigger understand¬ 
ing of the dreams of youth. 

Mr. Daniel Chester French was once a bov himself. He loved 

j 

mud-pies, and when the hard, crisp turnips were dug from the 
frozen ground he delighted his boy friends with all sorts of animals 
carved from these turnips. One day he made a frog in clothes. 
When his stepmother saw it, she exclaimed, “Daniel, there is your 
career! ” 

His weird turnip figures attracted Miss Louisa May Alcott 
(author of “Little Women”). She insisted that the boy sculptor 
must be trained. Ralph Waldo Emerson saw in his future the 
famous sculptor he is to-day. I want you to know Mr. French’s 
works; he is one of our modern old masters. 


18 



Courtesy of the Sculptor 

Fig. 9. Death of the Sculptor. French. 


Forest Hill Cemetery, Boston 











THE DISCUS-THROWER 

Myron (About 500-440 b. c.) 

T HE Discus Thrower” in the Vatican, Rome, is a marble 
copy of a bronze statue by Myron. The modern head 
ought to be turned more to the left. 

Myron and Phidias were nearly the same age. To-day we 
know them as the great sculptors of Greece, born about 500 b. c. 
They studied together under the same master. Possibly Phidias 
was better known than Myron during their lifetime. Phidias was 
chosen by Pericles, the ruler of Athens, to rebuild the city after 
Xerxes, the Persian, destroyed it. His most noted works were 
the figures on the pediments or gable ends of the Parthenon. 
Thesius was one of the statues on the east gable (see page 92). 

Myron was celebrated for his statues of animals. His “Bronze 
Cow,” on the Pnyx hill in Athens, was so like a live cow that an¬ 
cient writers tell funny stories about it. They wrote that gadflies 
settled on her metal skin, that shepherds tried to drive her and hal¬ 
ter and hitch her to the plow. Even Myron himself, they said, 
could not tell her from the rest of his herd. These stories are all 
hearsay, for not a trace of Myron’s “Bronze Cow” is left. 

Myron was specially noted for his statues of men in action. In 
“The Discus-Thrower” every muscle is strained under the act of 
hurling the disk, yet the left foot is just ready to slip to rest when 
the disk is on its way through the air. Myron seemed to love ac¬ 
tion pure and simple. 


20 



Fig. io. The Discus Thrower. Myron. Vatican Museum, Rome 



COLLEONI AND HIS HORSE 

Andrea Verrocchio (1435-1488) 

C OLLEONI was a great Venetian general. He left at his 
death a sum of money for an equestrian statue to be put 
up in St. Mark’s Square. The Venetian authorities gave 
the order for making the statue to Verrocchio. The sculptor went 
to Venice and finished a model of the horse and then began a 
model of the general. 

Just at this time the authorities changed their minds and sent 
word to Verrocchio that they decided to have the statue of Colleoni 
made by Leopardi. Of course this fickleness angered Verrocchio. 
He broke the head off his model of the horse and left Venice. 

Now the Venetian authorities were angry and send word to 
Verrocchio that if he ever came back to Venice he would lose his 
head. Verrocchio must have laughed at this threat. He in turn 
sent word to the authorities that if they cut his head off they could 
not put it on again; he could put his horse’s head on again. Then 
he added slyly, “I could make it even more beautiful than before.” 
The Venetian authorities saw that they were beaten and begged the 
artist to come to Venice at twice the pay they had offered him at 
first, and make the whole group as you see it in the picture. 

Verrocchio only lived to complete the models for “Colleoni and 
His Horse.” For many years Leopardi, who had served a term in 
prison for forgery, claimed that he made the group, but we know 
to-day that Verrocchio made it. 

When you go to Venice be sure and see “Colleoni and His 
Horse.” The statue ought to be in St. Mark’s Square, but the dis¬ 
honest authorities did not fulfill their promise to General Colleoni. 
The spot where it stands is simply the “Schuola di San Marco,” 
School of St. Mark. 


22 



Fig. ii. Colleoni and His Horse. Verrocchio. Square of St. Mark’s School, Venice 








APOLLO BELVEDERE 


A POLLO, twin brother to Diana (see page 26), was the 
son of Zeus and Latona. Great power was given him 
by his royal parents. He became god of the sun, god of 
life, god of poesy, and god of light. But his godlike gifts could 
not protect him from the god of love. Cupid was a cruel little 
imp when anything crossed him in love. 

One day Apollo saw Cupid with his bow and arrows. He un¬ 
wisely chid him by saying: “What have you to do with warlike 
weapons, saucy boy?” Go kindle your flames, as you call them, 
with your torch, and leave the bow and arrows to me.” 

Cupid was angry at this speech and replied, “Your arrows may 
strike all things else, Apollo, but mine shall strike you." 

Now, Cupid had two arrows: one was love and the other hate; 
one was sharp and tipped with gold, the other blunt and tipped 
with lead. He stood on Mount Parnassus and drew his bow; the 
gold-tipped arrow sped through the heart of Apollo, and the lead- 
tipped one wounded the beautiful nymph Daphne. Poor Apollo! 
Poor Daphne! The one loved and the other hated. Apollo fol¬ 
lowed the fleeing Daphne; he called to her, he pleaded with her. 
He, the son of the great Zeus, could give her anything. At last he 
caught her in his arms. She cried in agony to her father to change 
her into any form. Scarcely had her words been spoken when her 
body stiffened, her limbs became tree-branches, and her shiny 
hair turned to leaves. Poor Apollo cried in his grief, “As you 
cannot be my wife, you shall be my tree; and I will wear your 
leaves on my brow.” Thus the laurel became sacred to Apollo. 

The statue of “Apollo Belvedere,” in the Vatican, at Rome, 
shows the god just descended from high heaven to defend his be¬ 
loved shrine at Delphi, Greece. The Gauls from the north are 
attacking it. Apollo with a scornful curl of his lips shakes his 
aegis a shield with Medusa’s head before them, and the enemy flee. 

24 



Fig. 12. Apollo Belvedere. Vatican Museum, Rome 






DIANA AND THE STAG 


S OMETIMES this statue is called “Artemis [the Greek name] 
and Her Hind.” It represents the goddess just after she 
has brought the stag as a sacrifice. The story says that 
when Agamemnon, the Greek general, set sail to fight against the 
Trojans in the Trojan War, Diana, who favored the Trojans, was 
angry because the general had killed one of her stags. To punish 
him she sent a dead calm that held the ships almost stationary, and 
a pestilence broke out in the army.' Agamemnon was at his wit’s 
end, but a soothsayer told him to sacrifice his daughter Iphigenia; 
then Diana would repent. This was a terrible price to pay—kill 
his own daughter! But he must sail for Troy. He sent for his 
daughter. She believed that she was to be the bride of the great 
Achilles and knew not that she was to be a bride on the alter to 
Diana. But, just as the knife was descending, Diana snatched 
Iphigenia away and left a stag for the sacrifice. The statue of 
the virgin huntress, in the Capitol Museum, Rome, is beautiful in 
womanly grace. The swift-footed goddess defied capture. 

But Diana was not always merciful in her caprices. One time 
she and her nymphs were bathing in her favorite woodland grotto 
when by chance Actaeon wandered to the entrance of the grotto. 
The nymphs screamed and tried to shield the goddess. But she, 
taller than the rest, was seen by the astonished Actaeon. Diana 
dashed water in his face exclaiming, “Now go and tell, if you can, 
that you have seen Diana unappareled.” Before he could speak 
horns sprang from his head, his neck grew long, a spotted skin 
covered his body, and his ears grew pointed. He tried to cry, 
but no sound came. He rushed from the hateful place thinking 
to find his own dogs for protection. Alas, they did not know him! 
They began to chase him, supposing him the stag they were out 
to hunt. They sped over hill and dale. Poor Actaeon, foot- 
weary and heartbroken, was overcome by his own faithful hounds. 

26 



Fig. 13. Diana and the Stag. Capitol Museum, Rome 






STATUE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 


BY 

Augustus Saint-Gaudens (1848-1907) 

I F I should ask you, “Who is the great American?” your answer 
would ring out, “Abraham Lincoln! ” 

And then if I should ask, “What is there about this tall, 
gaunt, ungainly, sad-looking man that grips your heart and mine?” 
you would answer: 

“He stood for ‘right makes might! 1 ” 

When Lorado Taft, the sculptor, who was himself born in 
Chicago, gave the address at the unveiling of this “Statue of 
Abraham Lincoln,” in Chicago, in 1887, he said, “It is ours!” 

If you were standing by the statue you would see that the sculp¬ 
tor has shown Lincoln just risen from his chair and speaking to the 
vast crowd gathered to hear him. He stands, this master of men, 
with bowed head as though he had spoken the last word of that 
famous sentence in his speech at Cooper Union in 1860. Let us 
read that sentence as it is carved around the platform where he 
stands: “Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that 
faith let us to the end dare do our duty as we understand it.” 

Augustus Saint-Gaudens came to America a little French-Irish 
boy from Dublin. A dear little love-story is told of his father and 
mother. His sturdy young father, a French shoemaker from St.- 
Gaudens, France, took ship for America, stopping on the way at 
Kingston, near Dublin, Ireland. Young Saint-Gaudens stood 
looking over the ship’s rail. He caught the eye of a comely Irish 
lass. Love at first sight! He exclaimed, “That girl is to be my 
wife! ” and off the ship he went. And to-day we say with Robert 
Louis Stevenson, of that little son born in Dublin, “My dear 
godlike sculptor.” 


28 



Fig. 14. Abraham Lincoln. Saint-Gaudens. Lincoln Park, Chicago 



i 












THE BRONZE HORSES 


O NCE upon a time many, many years ago some one, we do 
not know who, made these beautiful ‘‘Bronze Horses.” 
They have been such “globe-trotters” that to-day we call 
them “The Traveled Horses.” Try to remember what I shall tell 
you about their travels—you may go to the same places some day. 

“The Bronze Horses” are made of Corinthian brass and prob¬ 
ably stood in front of a temple in Corinth, Greece, 300 b. c. They 
remained in that place until 146 b. c., when Mummius, the Roman 
general who conquered Corinth, carried them off to Rome and set 
them up in the senate square. They stood in the senate square 
for nearly two hundred years; then they were moved to the arch 
of Titus, and a little later to the arch of Trajan. 

When Constantine, the Christian emperor, opened his whole em¬ 
pire to the worship of Jesus, the Christ, he rebuilt old Byzantium 
about a. d. 330 and named the city Constantinople after himself. 
“The Traveled Horses” had taken his fancy—they had rested 
in Rome for nearly five hundred years—and so he took them to his 
new Rome and set them up on the Hippodrome. There they stood 
on that famous circus for more than eight hundred years. 

In 1204 Venice had become a great power. Doge Enrico Dan- 
dolo came from Venice and conquered Constantinople and carried 
“The Bronze Horses” home with him. They were set up over the 
portal of San Marco, to remain for nearly six hundred years. 
When Napoleon saw “The Traveled Horses” in Venice in 1797 he 
wanted them, and so carried them to Paris to adorn a triumphal 
arch in front of the Louvre. In less than twenty years (1815), 
however, they were sent back to Venice for another hundred years. 
When the World War came and the German bombs began to fall 
on Venice (1915), “The Bronze Horses” were removed to Rome 
again for safe-keeping. At last Armistice day came, November 
11, 1918, and “The Bronze Horses” went again to Venice. 

30 



The Bronze Horses. 


San Marco, Venice 


Fig. 15. 











THE WRESTLERS 


I F you could have been in Greece at the time “The Wrestlers” 
were made about the fourth century b. c. you would have 
seen young boys having wrestling-matches just as these youths 
are. The Greek men made much of training their bodies. Even 
Homer, who wrote about Troy (see page 6) between 900 and 
800 b. c., mentions very early games. Some people believe the 
games began when Hercules (see page 78) was performing his 
twelve labors. I suspect boys have always had wrestling-matches; 
what do you think ? 

Tradition says that the Olympic games were renewed about 884 
B. c., but no one knows who started the games or when they were 
started. Many cities claim the honor. Probably the most ancient 
stadium was at Olympia. Olympia was not a city or even a town. 
It was simply a wide plain surrounded by temples, gymnasiums, 
and halls for the games. At this center was the most magnificent 
collection of buildings ever brought together for worship and phys¬ 
ical exercise. One of the wonders of the world, the temple of 
Olympian Zeus, stood as the crowning glory of the group. No 
youth was ever allowed to enter these games unless he was abso¬ 
lutely clean and pure in body and had never committed a crime. 
He could never have lied or stolen or murdered. 

The group of “The Wrestlers” was found near the “Niobe 
Group” (see page 40) not far from the Lateran Church, Rome, 
and is now in the Uffizi Museum, Florence. 


32 



Fig. 16. The Wrestlers. Uffizi Gallery, Florence 






THE WOUNDED ASSYRIAN LIONESS 


I ONCE had a blind girl friend who saw everything with her 
finger-tips. We were together looking at a plaster relief of 
this “Wounded Assyrian Lioness.” She ran her fingers 
lightly over the wounded lioness, and as she touched the lines 
around the snarling mouth she said, 

“See, how angry she is because she is helpless! ” She had seen 
with delicate finger-tips what I had scarcely noticed. Sure 
enough, the lioness is helpless. The arrows have entered her 
spine, and her back legs are paralyzed. 

This splendid “Wounded Assyrian Lioness,” now in the British 
Museum, London, was on the wall of King Asurbanipal (668-626 
b. c.) in Nineveh, on the Euphrates River, Assyria. The story 
cut in stone, in low relief, on the wall of the palace, was of a battle 
scene where the lions were used to fight with. The soldiers shot 
at the enemy with bows and arrows- from the walls surrounding 
the city of Nineveh. 

Jonah was sent to Nineveh. “Now Nineveh was an exceeding 
great city of three days’ journey,” (Jonah, III, 3). When you 
read in the story of Jonah, in the Bible, about his journey to that 
great city, remember it took the prophet three whole days to go 
from one end of the city to the other and that he must have passed 
the palace of the king where this lioness was carved on the wall. 
It is nearly three thousand years since Jonah was in Nineveh, and 
since the lioness was carved on the wall of the king’s palace; but 
we know to-day just as much about Jonah’s work and the sculp¬ 
tor's work of that time as the people did who lived then. You 
must keep close watch of what is going on in Assyria, Babylon, 
Palestine, and Egypt. The past is living to-day; and we need its 
life. 


34 



Fig. 17. The Wounded Assyrian Lioness. British Museum, London 

















THE BOY WITH A GOOSE 

Boethus, (Second Century b. c.) 

B OETHUS is the name of the sculptor who made “The 
Boy with a Goose.” He lived in the second century b. c. 
We know that Boethus understood boys and girls and 
their playmates, for we have a number of copies of his bronze 
statues of children. 

Now, look at this sturdy little fellow struggling with the goose. 
Did you ever see a more unequal fight! I believe the boy will 
win out, though the goose is full-grown and has strong wings 
to help him in the struggle for freedom. See, the goose is al¬ 
ready gasping for breath because the chubby arms squeeze his 
neck so tightly. 

A goose was a common plaything in the Greek home, and very 
likely Boethus saw this very boy and his pet in the yard at play. 
He was probably watching this struggle and clapping his hands 
at the unequal contest. Pliny, who w T as killed in 79 A. d. when 
Pompeii was destroyed by the ashes from Vesuvius at Naples, 
Italy, wrote about the statues made by Boethus. He speaks spec¬ 
ially of a bronze group of “The Boy with a Goose.” 

The original bronze group of “The Boy with a Goose” is lost, 
but this marble copy in the Munich Museum, Germany, shows 
what wonderful insight Boethus had into the playmates of Greek 
boys and girls two thousand years ago. The goose was to the 
Greek children then, and still is, what the cat is to American 
children, a plaything to pull around the house and yard. 


36 



Courtesy of Pratt Institute 

Fig. i8. The Boy with a Goose. Boethus. Munich Museum, Germany 



ENDYMION ASLEEP 


E NDYMION was a shepherd boy on Mount Latmos. He 
took care of the sheep as they fed on the mountain-side. 
One night the moon, whose name was Selene or Diana, 
saw the beautiful boy sleeping. He was so lovely that even 
the moon’s cold heart was touched, and she loved him. She 
stole down noiselessly and kissed him and watched his sheep as 
he slept. 

Legend says that Endymion asked the mighty Zeus to grant 
him three wishes: undying youth, immortality, and perpetual 
sleep. Zeus heard his request and allowed Selene to work her 
charms on him. Her gentle kisses and cool embrace so soothed 
him that he slept on and on. She truly loved him, for she tended 
his sheep and guarded his flock from harm. Many, many little 
lambs came and grew into fine sheep, and she kept watch that no 
wild beast should destroy them. Endymion slept on. 

Now look at Endymion in this fine relief, in the Capitol Museum, 
Rome, and see how quietly he sleeps and dreams. His dreams 
are those of a poet who loves the still hours of the night in which 
to weave his fancies into poems of adventure and beautiful story. 
His faithful dog keeps watch by his side. See, he barks as 
though an enemy were near. Possibly he is jealous of Selene and 
is barking at her moon-face. 


38 



Courtesy of Pratt Institute 


Fjg. 19. Endymion Asleep. Capitol Museum, Rome 








NIOBE AND HER DAUGHTER 

Scopas (Fourth Century b. c.) 

N IOBE was a very proud woman. She was queen of 
Thebes and had seven sons and seven daughters. She 
ought to have been very happy but she was jealous. 

You remember the goddess Latona, the mother of Apollo and 
Diana or Selene (see pages 24 and 26). It was the custom in 
Thebes, Greece, in ancient times to have an annual festival in 
honor of Latona. Niobe was foolish enough to scold the people of 
Thebes for paying honor to Latona, who had two children when 
she, their queen, had fourteen. She stood proudly before the 
gathered multitude and continued to pour out her complaints until 
her final cry, “Away with you from these solemnities; put off the 
laurel from your brows; have done with the worship!” sent the 
people home. No human queen could insult a goddess without 
being punished. Latona called Apollo and Selene. They heard 
the matter and wanted revenge. A terrible scene followed. 

Apollo took his quiverful of arrows. No pleading of Niobe 
could now save her children. One after the other fell pierced 
by Apollo’s arrows until, as is shown in this marble group in the 
Uffizi Museum, Florence, the youngest alone remained alive. 
Niobe’s cry of agony reached the ears of the mighty Zeus. He 
spoke, but, alas, too late! The arrow was already on its way, and 
she, too, died. Niobe’s tears continued to flow until her grief 
turned her to stone. She was carried bv a whirlwind to her na- 

j 

tive home in Phrygia, Asia Minor, where she still remains a mass 
of rock with her tears flowing like water over her stone-like body. 

Most of the statues of the Niobe group in the Uffizi, were found 
just outside the San Giovanni gate, Rome, in 1583, and were 
bought by the Medici family and taken to Florence in 1794. 
The original statues probably made by Scopas, were lost. 

40 





Fig. 20. Niobe and her Daughter. Uffizi Museum, Florence 







THE DYING GAUL 


F OR a long time this statue was called “The Dying Glad¬ 
iator. 1 ’ A gladiator was a man who fought with a sword 
to amuse the people at a festival or holiday. At last 
some one asked, “How could he wound himself on the right side 
and pull the sword out?” Then critics knew that the short crisp 
hair and stiff mustache were more like a warrior than an athlete. 

History says that the ring or torque you see around the Gaul’s 
neck is a twisted wire ring worn in battle by the ancient Galatians. 
And the Galatian soldiers also went into battle nude except for 
the ring around the neck. All these known facts point to “The 
Dying Gaul” as the right name for the statue. 

This marble copy was probably made direct from the original 
bronze “The Dying Gaul.” It was one of many others which 
formed the Great Altar at Pergamus, Asia Minor, in the third cen¬ 
tury b. c. If St. John lived at Ephesus, a short distance from Per¬ 
gamus he must have seen “The Dying Gaul” in place on the Great 
Altar. St. John doubtless refers to the Great Altar in Revelation, 
II, 13, when in his vision he writes to the church in Pergamus, 
“I know thy works, and where thou dwellest, even where Satan’s 
seat is: and thou holdest fast my name, and hast not denied my 
faith. . . .” 

The statue of “The Dying Gaul” in the Capitol Museum, Rome, 
stands close to the statue of “The Marble Faun” (see page 88). 
It was found in Rome in the sixteenth century. 


42 





Fig. 21. The Dying Gaul. Vatican Museum, Rome 










SEVEN-BRANCHED CANDLESTICKS 


I WANT you to look very carefully at this picture of the 
“Seven-Branched Candlesticks” carved in stone. If the 
Roman Emperor Titus had not had this picture made about 
fifty years after Jesus, the Christ, was crucified we probably would 
not have known what the seven-branched candlestick spoken of 
in the Bible was like. 

When Emperor Titus destroyed Jerusalem, a. d. 70, he not only 
brought back to Rome with him many captive Jews but also the 
furnishings of Solomon’s Temple, and among these furnishings 
were the “Golden Seven-Branched Candlesticks” of the Temple. 
To celebrate his victory he had an arch built at the foot of the 
Palatine Hill, called the Arch of Titus, and on one of the inside 
panel's was carved this picture in relief. 

The candlesticks and other Temple furnishings were put in the 
Temple of Peace, Rome. They stayed in the temple for nearly 
four hundred years. Then they were carried to Carthage by the 
vandal King Genseric. Less than a hundred years later Belissar- 
ius (505-565), a Byzanium general, took them to Constantinople 
and later back to Jerusalem. They were put in a Christian 
church in the Holy City. In 614 Chosroes, King of Persia, con¬ 
quered Jerusalem and claimed the “Golden Seven-Branched 
Candlesticks” and other Temple furnishings and carried them 
away. Nothing has ever been heard of them since. It is just 
possible that under England’s rule the precious “Golden Branched 
Candlesticks” may be brought to light again. Who knows but 
you may be the one to help find them? 


44 



Fig. 22. The Seven-Branched Candlestick. Arch of Titus, Rome 


THE VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE 


W HAT a pity that this beautiful “Victory” lost her 
head! She used to stand on the beach overlooking 
the Aegean Sea on the island of Samothrace. This 
lies between Greece and Thrace on the north. That was more 
than two thousand years ago. Probably an earthquake knocked 
“Victory” over, and her head rolled into the sea. Her body, 
buried deep in the earth, was lost until 1857, when some workmen, 
digging, turned up fragments of marble. Fitting these pieces 
together, behold! they had found the lost “Victory” or “Nike,” 
the Gre.ek word meaning victory. But alas, the head was gone. 

We do not know the name of the sculptor who made our marvel¬ 
ous “Victory,” but we do know that when Demetrius Poliorcetes 
of Macedon was successful against the Egyptians in 306 b. c. he 
celebrated his victory by setting up “Nike of Samothrace.” 

Looking at the statue carefully we find one side and the back 
unfinished. It probably stood in front of the high wall that 
crossed the end of the valley. It was the finished “Victory” 
towering above valley, buildings, and sea that the people gloried 
in as they promenaded under the pillared portico of their temple. 

There is a beautiful old story that when the Greeks won a battle 
at sea, Nike, the goddess of victory, came down and lighted on 
the prow of the ship and guided it to the home-land. Now when 
you go to the great gallery of the Louvre, Paris, and see the 
“Victory of Samothrace” at the top of the main staircase you will 
feel that her welcome makes you stand the straighter and hold 
your head a bit higher, for she is beckoning you to victory in life. 


46 



Fig. 23. The Victory of Samothrace. Louvre, Paris 




BISCORNETTE OVERLOOKING PARIS 


T HE roof of Notre Dame of Paris is simply swarming with 
all sorts of animals and monsters. Among these strange 
creatures is Biscornette leaning on the corner of the stone 
parapet. No one knows who this mysterious being was, but the 
people thought him the master worker who made the marvelously 
beautiful hinges, as delicate a's lacework, for the doors. No one 
ever saw him at work, but other workmen said that he had sold 
his soul to the King of Darkness to obtain special skill in making 
hinges. Of course the other workmen were jealous of Biscornette. 

It was nearly a thousand years ago, in 1163, that Notre Dame 
had such a mysterious workman. To-day we can stand by Bis¬ 
cornette on the roof and look around at his strange mates—the 
gargoyles and other monsters. Gargoyles are also strange beings. 
Legend says that one time in France Gargouille, a dragon, lived 
in a stream near Rouen. He spoiled the water so that the people 
could not use it. At last he was killed by St. Romanus. After 
this, spouts for carrying water off the roofs were called gargouilles 
or gargoyles meaning running water. These spouts are made in 
all sorts of shapes and strange beings on Notre Dame, such as, 
an eagle and grapes, an owl and one-horned goat, an elephant and 
tiger; and, back of Biscornette, is a vulture. There are hundreds 
of these creatures. We can almost hear them snarl and growl, 
bark and cry and even laugh, if we come too near them. 

Do not fail to see this wonderful menagerie of strange animals 
on the roof of Notre Dame, ancient queen of cathedrals, when you 
go to Paris. 


48 




Fig. 24. Biscornette Overlooking Paris. Notre Dame, Paris 




PALLAS ATHENE 


A THENE has a strange history; she came from the head 
of the great Zeus fully armed. It was like this: Vul¬ 
can, the son of Zeus and Juno, was born lame. His 
mother in anger threw him out of heaven. He fell a whole day 
before he landed on Mount Lemnos. He was an artist and soon 
became known for his wonderful ironwork. Once, we do not 
know why, he struck the head of his father, Zeus; and out sprang 
Pallas Athene before his astonished eyes. 

Athene was so wonderful a goddess that she was called the 
goddess of wisdom. She came to Greece, and when the contest 
was held as to who should rule Athens, Athene and Neptune, the 
god of the sea, contended for the honor. Neptune came with his 
trident, a three-tined fork. He struck the ground before him, and 
out gushed a stream of salt water. Athene stood up tall and 
straight. She spoke, and an olive-tree came forth. The people 
of Attica accepted Athene’s gift rather than Neptune’s. They 
named their principal city Athens in honor of Athene. 

After Athens was destroyed by Xerxes in the fifth century b. c. 
Pericles, the ruler, decided to rebuild Athens. He appointed 
Phidias, the sculptor, to oversee the work. Naturally the first 
thought was to honor their goddess, Pallas Athene; and the Par¬ 
thenon was built. Around the building under the portico ran a 
border or frieze on which was carved the scene of the annual pro¬ 
cession to Athene. A marvelous statue of the goddess herself 
was made by Phidias (see page 92) and set up in the temple. 
This statue was lost, and only figures on coins show how she must 
have looked in her royal robes of wisdom. The owl was her 
favorite bird. Minerva was Pallas Athene’s Latin name. 


* 


50 



Fig _' 


Pallas Athene Vatican Museum. Rome 







LION CRUSHING A SERPENT 

Antoine Louis Bar ye (1795-1875) 

W HEN this splendid “Lion” was first set up in Paris, 
an angry Frenchman, jealous that a poor sculptor 
should be honored, asked angrily: 

“Since when were the Tuileries [public gardens] a menagerie?” 
Sixty years ago Mr. Henry Walters, founder of the Walters 
Gallery, Baltimore, went to see Monsieur Barye in Paris; but the 
sculptor was not at home. He called again several times, until 
finally Madame Barye said, 

“Ah, sir, there is no use in coming here for three weeks. A 
new tiger has just arrived from Bengal, and until its wdldness 
is gone—no Monsieur Barye!” Mr. Walters could not wait the 
three weeks. Ten years later, in 1873, he was again in Paris. 
This time he found Monsieur Barye at home. After greeting the 
sculptor, he said: “Monsieur Barye, I come to make you a prop¬ 
osition. I come to commission you to supply the Corcoran Gallery, 
Washington, with one specimen of every bronze you have ever de¬ 
signed.” “This speech,” said Mr. Walters, “produced the live¬ 
liest effect on the old sculptor’s stolid calmness; his eyes filled, and 
he spoke with difficulty. ‘Mr. Walters,’ he said, ‘mv own country 
has never done anything like that for me.’ ” Monsieur Barye du¬ 
plicated about one hundred and twenty pieces of his bronzes for 
Mr. Walters before he died. 

One day shortly before his death Madame Barye said, as she 
was dusting the small bronzes standing near his bed: “My dear, 
when you are better, see that the signatures are more legible.” 
“Never fear,” replied Barye; “before twenty years have passed 
people will be using a magnifying-glass to my signatures.” 

And he was right. To-day his small bronzes are sold for 
more than their weight in gold. This group of “The Lion Crush¬ 
ing a Serpent” is one of the treasures of Paris to-day. 

52 




Fig. 26. Lion Crushing a Serpent. 


Barye. Jardin des Tuileries, Paris 






PERSEUS AND THE MEDUSA HEAD 


P ERSEUS was the son of the mighty Zeus and Danae, the 
daughter of King Acrisius of Argos. Poor Danae had 
a rather unhappy girlhood. Her father kept her in a 
brass tower. When Zeus found where she was hidden he changed 
himself into a shower of gold and shone into her room. Danae’s 
father was so angry that Zeus had found his daughter that he 
put Danae and the baby Perseus in a chest and floated it off on 
the sea. A fisherman found them. 

When Perseus was grown to manhood under the fisherman’s 
care, King Polydectes of the country, greatly fearing this son of 
Zeus, decided to send him off on dangerous expeditions. 

A few years before Perseus was grown, a beautiful maiden, 
Medusa, dared to contend with the goddess Athene in loveliness. 
To punish Medusa for such audacity—the very idea of thinking 
that she, a human maiden, could be as beautiful as a goddess— 
Athene turned Medusa’s beautiful hair into snakes. Then she 
willed that whoever looked upon Medusa’s face should become 
stone. Cruel Polydectes commanded Perseus to bring him 
Medusa’s head. Of course he expected that Perseus would be 
turned to stone. 

Perseus, however, had two friends among the gods and god¬ 
desses: Mercury and Athene. Mercury lent Perseus his own 
winged shoes and crooked sword, and Athene lent him her beauti¬ 
ful polished shield. Perseus flew away to Medusa’s cavern, and 
as he came near he saw reflected in Athene’s shield Medusa and 
her two sisters asleep. He flew close to them and cut off Medusa’s 
head, and flew away with it before the sisters awakened. 

In this statue Perseus with the head of Medusa is flying over 
the earth to help those in distress. Monsters of wickedness are 
turned into stone when they look at Medusa’s head. 


54 




Fig. 27. Perseus and the Medusa Head. Antonio Canova (1757—1822.) Vatican Museum, 

Rome 


THE WILD BOAR 


T HIS bronze “Wild Boar,” in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence, 
is one of our finest antique bronze animal statues. We 
do not know who made it. The sculptor may have known 
the story of the Calydonian Hunt (see page 58) and modeled his 
wild boar after the one in the story. What do you think? Look 
at the fierce attitude of this fellow. The stiff bristles standing 
almost at right angles show how angry he is. His sharp teeth 
snapping together sound like a pistol-shot. His open mouth and 
snarling lips almost make us shudder, even if he is made of 
bronze. What a fine specimen he is of the natural growth of the 
ancestors of our domestic animals when in their wild state! 

This “Wild Boar” makes me think of the animals on the walls 
of the tomb of Mereruka, of the sixth dynasty, at Sakkara, 
Egypt. Mereruka lived nearly five thousand years ago. He was 
said to be the first person to believe in training wild animals for 
home use. Tradition says that he had such power over animals 
that he went himself into the forest. The pictures on the walls 
of his tomb show various animals, like the wild horse, the wild 
dog, and the wild hog, all seeming to come at his call. You know 
some people do seem to have great power in quieting animals. 

The animals carved by ancient sculptors are excellent in their 
likeness to real animals. Even to-day we find these masterpieces 
have never been surpassed as great works of art. 


56 



Fig. 28. The Wild Boar. Uffizi Gallery, Florence 



MELEAGER 


W HEN Meleager was born, the Fates (see “Chil¬ 
dren’s Book of Celebrated Pictures,” page 24), who 
were spinning his life thread, told his mother, Queen 
Althea of Calydon, that the boy could live only so long as a stick 
then burning on the hearth should last. Althea snatched up the 
stick, put out the fire, and hid it away. 

About the time Meleager grew to manhood Diana, or Selene, 
the moon, was jealous because she was forgotten in a sacrifice. 
She sent a wild boar into Calydon. It went tearing through the 
land, tramping down the crops, tearing up the olive-trees and 
grape-vines. No one was able to catch it. At last Meleager 
called the heroes of Greece to come and help destroy the monster. 
They came: Trojan War heroes and Theseus, who killed the 
Minotaur monster, and the beautiful Atalanta, the daughter of the 
king of Arcadia. When Meleager saw Atalanta he loved her. 
The great Calydonian Hunt began. The wild boar had made 
his nest among the reeds of a dense marsh, and when he heard 
the hunters he rushed out and killed one hero after the other 
Atalanta was the first one to wound the furious beast with her 
arrow, and Meleager’s arrow ended its life. Naturally Meleager 
gave the head and rough skin to Atalanta. This roused the hate 
of the hunters, Meleager’s uncles. In their anger they snatched 
the trophies from Atalanta, and Meleager in his rage ran his 
sword through them both. 

Now, Meleager’s uncles were his mother’s brothers. Strange, 
but her sister-love was stronger than her mother-love. She de¬ 
cided her son must die and brought forth the stick, hidden all 
these years, and thrust it into the fire. Poor Meleager felt a 
sudden pain, and then he felt himself on fire. He knew not that 
it was his mother who was killing him. His called his loved 
ones and gave them all his love just as he died. His mother, 
wild with grief, killed herself. The statue of “Meleager and 
His Boar’s Head” is in the Vatican Gallery, Rome. 

58 



Fig. 29. Meleager. Vatican Museum, Rome 




SILENUS AND DIONYSUS 


W HAT a darling baby boy is our little Bacchus, or 
Dionysus, to use his Greek name. And how tenderly 
Silenus holds him! Silenus, the foster-father of 
Bacchus, had one very, very bad fault: he would get drunk! 
One day in a drunken spree he wandered from home and came to 
Midas, the king of Phrygia in Asia Minor. Midas, knowing who 
the old man was, took him in and cared for him many days; then 
he sent word to Bacchus to come for his foster-father. Bacchus, 
glad to find his foster-father, forgave him, as he had many times 
in the past. Bacchus offered Midas any reward he might ask. 
Midas wished that everything he touched might turn to gold. 

Bacchus was sorry for this foolish request, but he granted it. 
Midas was delighted. He began at once to test his new power. 
Yes, everything he took hold of was gold in his hands: stone, 
tree, vegetable and lucious apples were all glittering gold. 
His delight knew no bounds. He ordered a great banquet to be 
served, but to his dismay every mouthful he raised to his lips 
was gold. Starvation was before him! In agony he cried to 
Bacchus to be a merciful god. Bacchus answered: 

“Go to the river Pactolus, follow it to its source, and dip your 
whole body in the water and wash away your sin.” Midas obeyed 
and the stream became a gold-mine, which it is to-day. 

King Midas had one fearful fault: he was curious. Apollo, to 
punish him, changed his ears to those of an ass. Midas was ter¬ 
ribly mortified, but his curly hair covered them. Only his hair¬ 
dresser knew that his master had ass’s ears. But he was sworn to 
secrecy on pain of death. The secret grew so big, however, that 
he could not keep it, and then he went to a meadow, dug a hole, 
whispered in it, “Midas has ass’s ears!'’ and buried it. In a 
short time a bed of reeds sprang up. Now they whisper, “Ass’s 
ears, ass’s ears! 1 ’ 


60 



Fig. 30. Silenus and Dionysus. Louvre Museum, Paris 




APOLLO AND THE LIZARD 


T HIS statue of “Apollo and the Lizard/' in the Vatican 
Gallery, Rome, is the best of the marble copies of Praxite¬ 
les’s original bronze one, which is lost. The god, lean¬ 
ing lightly on the tree-trunk, bears most of his weight on his 

right leg, with the left raised ready to swing easily toward the 

lizard. But is Apollo waiting to kill the lizard? Old authorities 
thought he was and gave the name “Sauroktonos,” meaning lizard- 
killer, to the statue. Now look carefully at Apollo. Do you 
think he sees the lizard? It seems to me that Apollo is day¬ 
dreaming and not thinking of the lizard at all. He is so still that 
the lizard has decided that boy and tree-trunk are both immovable. 

Lizards are common little animals in warm countries like 

Greece. Praxiteles saw them every day, scurrying hither and 

thither on every stone wall of house or fence, up every tree and 
along dusty roadsides and over ruins and in stone-piles. He could 
scarcely take a step without disturbing some shy little wanderer 
and scaring him from under a dry leaf or by a stone where he was 
hiding. No wonder we can almost see the graceful little fellow 
move as he glides up this tree-trunk, for Praxiteles has caught 
him in the very act. And Apollo, too. Was any boy ever more 
graceful or full of animal spirits? He is dreaming for a moment 
only; then he will dart away as agile as his shy companion. 

We know so very little about the life of Praxiteles that we cher¬ 
ish every word, however uncertain, said to have been spoken by 
him. One anecdote, possibly true, says that once Praxiteles was 
asked what statue he liked best. The sculptor answered, “Those 
on which Nicias [the painter] has set his mark.” Pliny ex¬ 
plained by saying that “So much importance did Praxiteles attach 
to the covering of color applied by Nicias.” We know for cer¬ 
tain now that marble statues made by the old Greek sculptors 
were colored. 


62 



Fig. 31. Apollo and the Lizard. Vatican Museum, Rome 



SINGING AND DANCING BOYS 

Luca della Robbia (1399-1482) 


N O marble children in relief are better known the world 
over than the rolicksome dancers and songsters of Luca 
della Robbia and Donatello (see title-page) hanging side 
by side in the Cathedral Museum, Florence. 

Luca della Robbia is specially noted for his glazed bas-reliefs 
—“bas” means low, and “relief” means raised work. At first all 
his figures were white and the background blue and green, but 
later he colored his figures, too. His first work, pure white on 
the colored background, is really his best work. 

One time when in Florence I spent a half-day in a carriage 
with an intelligent driver going to out-of-the-way places hunting 
della Robbia works. We found glorious altarpieces in filthy 
alleyways, exquisite Madonnas smiling at us from over dark door¬ 
ways, darling babies on round medallions set in crumbling walls, 
all clean and pure under the dust-coverings of ages. 

The della Robbia enamelwork has never been equaled. No 
one has been able to discover the glaze that he used. We buy 
della Robbia ware of to-day, very beautiful in texture and color, 
but when it is put by the side of an original our treasure looks 
commonplace. Luca della Robbia’s angels and babies and Ma¬ 
donnas are beings of heaven brought close to the heart of hu¬ 
manity. That is why my Florentine guide knew he would find 
the loveliest pictures where the people live in poverty, darkness, 
and dirt. Now look again at these wholesome, joyous singers 
and dancers. Ask mother for a picture of them to hang on the 
wall where you may see these bright children every day. 


64 




Fig. 32. Singing and Dancing Boys. Luca della Robbia. Cathedral Museum, Florence 













THE RAM 


T HIS “Ram” is so splendid as a bronze picture of the leader 
of a flock of sheep that we want him hung in our homes 
to remind us of broad fields, grassy hillsides, and grazing 
flocks. To-day, in Sicily, we can see just such fine rams with 
their flocks of sheep winding down the mountain-sides and along 
the dusty roads following the shepherd. 

Could anything be more lifelike than this ram? See the raised 
head and open lips. We can almost hear the anxious bleat of 
this watchful guardian ringing in our ears; a lurking danger is 
sensed by him. See how the leg is thrown out ready to 
spring into action. I am sure that the sculptor knew this par¬ 
ticular ram, for his understanding of ram nature is sympathetic. 

It is strange that no record was kept of the artist who gave this 
“Ram” to the ages. The only fact we have of its origin is that 
it was in Syracuse, Sicily, as early as the eleventh century of our 
era. To-day it is one of the treasures in the museums at Palermo, 
Sicily. Whoever you were, my dear sculptor friend, we love you 
because you are teaching us to love 

All things both great and small. 


66 



Fig. 33. The Ram. Palermo Museum, Sicily 











DAVID 

Michael Angelo (1474-1544) 

T HERE had lain in the churchyard of Maria del Fiore, 
Florence, for a hundred years and more, a huge block of 
Carrara marble, eighteen feet long, spoiled by some clumsy 
workman. Many sculptors came to look at the monster and shook 
their heads and went away. But when Michael Angelo, in 1500, 
saw it, the vision of “David’’ stepped out from the huge block, and 
the great sculptor seemed to hear the young shepherd boy saying 
to Goliath, the Philistine, “But I come to thee in the name of the 
Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast 
defied” (I Samuel, xvii, 45). 

A “David” was just what the authorities of Florence wanted, 
and Michael Angelo went to work to finish the statue of the 
young shepherd boy in two years. He had no model, except a 
very small wax one now in the Uffizi Gallery, but with chisel 
and mallet he brought his “David” out of its close-fitting cover 
to stand before us a simple shepherd lad. The marble cover was 
so tight that some of the rough surface still shows on David’s 
head and the elbows but just escape the narrow cover. 

Michael Angelo chose the public square, to the left of the 
Palazzo Vecchio, for his finished “David.” The colossal statue, 
three times the height of a man and weighing nine tons, was 
drawn by forty men along oiled beams from the sculptor’s studio 
to the square. It had to be done at night, for many people were 
jealous of the young sculptor; and even then stones were thrown, 
but the darkness itself was a protection. 

For four hundred years “David” stood in the public square 
under the blue sky of Italy, an honor to Michael Angelo and the 
pride and joy of his beloved Florence. Time and weather com¬ 
pelled the authorities to place “David” in the Academy. 

68 



Fig. 34. David. Michael Angelo. Academy, Florence 

























SHEIKH EL BELED! 


I WISH that we had been in Egypt near old Memphis a few 
years ago when those workmen, digging for treasures, came 
on the Wooden Man. No wonder they threw down their 
picks and shovels, exclaiming, “Sheikh el Beled!” “He is the 
mayor of our village!” for he looked just like their own mayor. 
What a splendid man he is, this “Sheikh el Beled!” When I 
first saw him in the Cairo Museum, Egypt, I felt like exclaiming 
myself, “He lives; I am sure he is looking at me! ” 

Is it possible that that wooden statue was made nearly six thou¬ 
sand years ago? Mr. Maspero, the great Egyptologist, says, in 
his art book on Egypt, “If some exhibition of the world’s master¬ 
pieces were to be inaugurated, I should choose this work to up¬ 
hold the honor of Egyptian art.” 

Now look at him closely. See how the sculptor has given his 
age in the fat around his waist and has made us understand in 
his spread legs that he belonged to the people. Yes, he was of 
the people, but he did not allow any foolishness in manner or 
speech. The word of such an officer was law in the village. 
Every boy and girl spoke to that mayor with respect. 

The statue is carved from wood, possibly sycamore. The eyes 
of onyx stone, with crystal pupils and bronze lids, are so life¬ 
like that we feel a little creepy as he looks at us. At least we 
are on our good behavior when in the museum where he stands 
in his glass case. 


70 



Fig. 35. Sheikh el Beled. Cairo Museum 
















MERCURY 


M ERCURY is a god I want you to know and love. His 
father, the mighty Zeus, felt that this boy baby of his 
was unusually bright. When he was four hours old, 
the story says, he took a tortoise-shell, made holes in the opposite 
sides, and stretched nine linen strings across it in honor of the 
nine Muses. This was the first lyre ever made. Even to-day 
the lyre is often called a shell. 

When Mercury was grown he gave his lyre to Apollo; and 
Apollo, in return, gave Mercury his wand. This wand, called a 
caduceus, had two serpents wound around it. Zeus made Mercury 
his messenger and gave him a pair of winged shoes and a winged 
cap. If you look carefully at this bronze statue of “Mercury,” 
in the Naples Museum, you will see that his winged shoes are 
fastened on the bottom of his feet. That is to show that Mercury 
never walks but that he runs on his toes when he is not flying 
through the air. 

One interesting task Zeus gave Mercury was to hunt up 
poor Pegasus, the winged horse. A poet had owned Pegasus 
but was compelled to sell him to a farmer to pay for food to keep 
himself alive. Mercury, you will remember, found Pegasus 
hitched to a plow and being beaten by the farmer because he could 
not draw it. Mercury said to the farmer: 

“Let me try your horse. I think he will work for me.” 
Mercury patted Pegasus while slyly unbuckling the harness, 
then mounting on his back, shook his hand at the farmer as they 
both flew away. The farmer, to his astonishment, found that 
Pegasus could fly even if he could not plow. 

Mercury’s Greek name was Hermes. 


72 


I 



Fig. 36. Mercury. Naples Museum 








THE BRONZE WOLF 


T HE two little children taking their dinner from “The 
Bronze Wolf” are Romulus and Remus. Legend says 
these boys were the sons of Mars, the great god of war. 
Their mother, Rhea Silvia, was not a goddess. “She must die!” 
said the gods. Her twin sons were thrown into the Tiber River at 
Rome. Of course the gods thought the boys would drown. But 
they did not, for the cradle floated and very soon stranded on an 
island. This kind wolf found them and took care of them as 
though they had been her own little babies. 

At last the shepherd of a king found the boys and took them 
home to his wife. They lived with these kind people until they 
were grown men. When they became men Romulus and Remus 
decided to build a city on the river Tiber. Romulus called the 
city Rome, possibly naming it for himself. Or it may be from 
voma, meaning a dug or teat, because he remembered how a wolf 
nursed him and Remus when they were babies. 

“The Bronze Wolf” was made about 300 b. c. Even Virgil, 
who was seventy years older than Jesus, the Christ, wrote about 
this statue. He said: 

There, by the wolf, were laid the martial twins, 

Intrepid on her swelling dugs they hung; 

The foster-dam lolled out her fawning tongue: 

They sucked secure, while bending back her head, 

She licked their tender limbs, and formed them as they fed. 

The Roman coins of Virgil’s time had a picture of a wolf and 
twin boys on them, and the wolf’s head is bent back as she looks 
at her foster-children. Virgil may have had in mind this picture 
on the coin when he wrote his verses. 


74 



« 



Fig. 37. The Bronze Wolf. Capitol Museum, Rome 








NARCISSUS 


N ARCISSUS was very beautiful and very cruel. And poor 
Echo, whom no one has ever seen, suffered from his 
cruelty. It is true that Echo had a very bad habit: she 
would insist on having the last word. Juno punished Echo by 
letting her have the last word, but she could never speak the 
first one. 

When Echo saw Narcissus she fell in love with him and longed 
to speak to him. She must wait, though, until he first spoke to 
her. One day Narcissus was separated from his companions. 
He tried to find them and then called, “Who ’s here?” 

Echo, hearing him, gladly answered him, “Here!” 

Narcissus looked all around but, seeing no one, he called, 
“Come! ” 

Echo answered, “Come!” Still Narcissus saw no one. 

At last, thinking his friends were near, he called, “Let us join 
one another.” Echo came rushing to him. When Narcissus 
saw her he spurned her advances. She tried to throw her arms 
around him, but he said he would not have her! 

“Have her!” came her echo in despair. Echo retired into the 
rocks and hills and faded away until only her faint voice answers 
to-day. 

But Narcissus was punished for his cruel treatment of the 
lovely nymph. He fell in love with his own reflection in a clear 
mountain pool. Day after day he looked at himself, longing 
for an answer to his pleadings. At last he faded away and died 
because the reflection of his beautiful self did not return his love. 
To-day the narcissus flower with its purple center and white circle 
of leaves grows bv the brink of the limpid pools of water to 
warn us against loving ourselves. 


76 


1 



Courtesy of Pratt Institute 


Fig. 38. Narcissus. Naples Museum 




HERCULES 


H ERCULES fought for his life from the time he lay in his 
cradle until he was a grown man. He was the son of 
Zeus and Alcmene; as usual, jealous Juno determined 
to destroy her husband’s baby, and so she sent two serpents to kill 
him. The little fellow, with his tiny baby hand, grasped the 
serpents and strangled them. This was the beginning of his 
marvelous deeds. 

As Juno had failed to kill the baby Hercules, she determined to 
kill the man Hercules. She used her powers as a fortune-teller 
and sent word to Hercules that he could, by serving Eurystheus, 
King of Mycenae, Greece, twelve years, become immortal. It was 
under this king that Hercules performed his twelve labors. You 
might learn the names of the “twelve labors of Hercules” and 
surprise your father and mother by telling them the names of the 
labors. Here is a little poem which gives the names: 

The Nemean lion first he killed, then Lerne’s hydra slew; 

The Arcadian stag and monster hear before Eurystheus drew; 

Cleansed Augeas’ stalls, and made the birds from Lake Stymphalis flee; 
The Cretan bull, and Thracian mares, first seized and then set free; 

Took prize the Amazonian belt, brought Geryon’s kine from Gades; 
Fetched apples from the Hesperides and dog Cerberus from Hades. 

This statue of “Hercules and the Lion” is in the Fogg Museum, 
Boston. It represents Hercules performing his first labor, the 
slaying of the Nemean lion. He first tried to destroy it with his 
famous club but finally took his own hands and broke its jaw. 
Now look again at the group of “Hercules and the Lion.” 


78 



Courtesy of Fogg Museum, Boston 

Fig. 39. Hercules 





THE SPHINX 


T HE Sphinx is a strange monster. Many strange stories 
are told about it. Sometimes the Sphinx is man-headed, 
sometimes it is sheep-headed, and sometimes it is woman¬ 
headed; and it is always lion-bodied. 

The woman-headed Sphinx seems to come from old Greece. 
Story says that once upon a time she sat on a rock by the roadside, 
giving each one who passed the following riddle: “What is it 
which in the morning walks on four feet, at noon on two feet, 
and in the evening on three feet?” As no one could answer her 
riddle, she tumbled them all down the rock. At last (Edipus, a 
wonderful youth, came and said: “Man! He crawls as a baby, 
walks as a man, and uses a cane in old age! ” She was so angry 
that her riddle was solved that she fell over and was killed. 

The great Sphinx of Egypt is man-headed and lion-bodied. It 
is near the Great Pyramid, a few miles from Cairo, Egypt. Many 
believe it to be the portrait of King Chephren, the builder of the 
second pyramid, about 3700 b. c. The whole figure is cut out 
of the solid rock that comes to the surface below the Great Pyramid. 
This ledge or “skirt” of the desert gave the name “Gizeh” (mean¬ 
ing skirt) to the desert west of the Nile River. 

The body of the Sphinx is of rock, but the fore paws are made 
of brick. The paws are nearly always covered by the shifting 
sand blowing in from the desert. During the Middle Ages the 
natives of Egypt believed that the Sphinx kept the sands from de¬ 
stroying the village of Gizeh. We know that Thothmes IV 
cleaned the sand away from the paws of the Sphinx in 1450 B. c., 
for he set up a tablet on which he stated that the “God of the 
Sphinx, Herukhuti-Khepera-Ra-Temu” (my, what a name!), ap¬ 
peared to him one day before he was king, and bade him remove 
the sand that had closed him in on all sides, and promised him 
that he should be king if he obeyed. The picture shows the 
tablet set up by Thothmes IV nearly four thousand years ago. 

80 



Courtesy of Pratt Institute 


Fig. 40. The Sphinx. Near Cairo, Egypt 











HERMES AND THE INFANT DIONYSUS 

Praxiteles (350 b. c.) 

T HE group of “Hermes and the Infant Dionysus” is the 
only original work by Praxiteles left to us. Every one 
except this one of the long list of statues that writers say 
he made is lost or destroyed so far as we know to-day. Pausanias, 
who lived in the second century of the Christian era, in writing 
about his visit to Olympia, Greece, speaks of “a Hermes of marble; 
he carries the babe Dionysus, and is the work of Praxiteles.” 

In 1877, nearly two thousand years later than Praxiteles, some 
excavators, digging in Olympia, came upon this statue. They 
were delighted when they found the face of Hermes perfect. The 
statue had been built into a brick wall in front of a wine-press on 
the spot where stood the ancient temple of Hera or Juno. The 
statue now stands on nearly its original site in Olympia. 

Hermes, or Mercury, as the Romans called him, was the errand- 
boy of Zeus. He was sent on many important missions. Some 
of these were very dangerous ones. One day his father, Zeus, be¬ 
ing in love with beautiful Io, was discovered by Juno, his wife. 
To save himself Zeus turned Io into a heifer. But Juno was too 
wise to be deceived. She insisted that the heifer be given to her; 
then she set the hundred-eyed Argus on watch. Of course Zeus 
was heartbroken. He sent for Mercury and told him he must kill 
Argus. But Argus had a hundred eyes, and slept with at least 
one eye open. Mercury told Argus stories and played on his pipes 
to sooth him until at last Argus went to sleep with all his eyes 
closed, and Mercury cut his head off with one stroke of his sword 
and sent it rolling down the rocks. When Juno found that Argus 
was dead she took the hundred eyes and put them on the peacock’s 
tail, and there they are to-day. 


82 



Courtesy of Pratt Institute 

Fig. 41. Hermes and the Infant Dionysus. Praxiteles. Olympia, Greece 





MOSES 

Michael Angelo (1474-1564) 


M ICHAEL ANGELO had to fight his way to make 
people believe in his art. Pope Julius II sent to 
Florence in 1505 for the young sculptor to come to 
Rome. Michael Anglo went at the pope’s command. Now for 
ten years he was at the beck and call of the touchy, irritable pon¬ 
tiff. Julius II wanted a colossal mausoleum built for himself, 
to be placed in St. Peter’s, Rome. He gave the order to Michael 
Angelo. 

Then began the struggle between these two men, one the ruler 
of Italy, the other only an artist. The sculptor would not be dic¬ 
tated to, and the pope knew that he held the power in his own 
hands. But fortunately for us the sculptor, Michael Angelo, won. 
He made the kind of statues he knew were fit for a pope; “Moses” 
was one of them. Julius II cut down the number of statues until 
only four were made, and the mauseleum was never built. 

This statue of Moses was to have been placed fifteen feet 
above the floor; then we would have a just idea of its majesty. 
Michael Angelo had no model but just the barest outlines in char¬ 
coal traced on the rough block of marble. We feel that this 
“Moses” could have talked face to face with God. He is the 
mighty leader ready to spring from his seat in indignation against 
the children of Israel when they were untrue to God and made 
the golden calf. 

The horns on the head of the statue of Moses came from a 
wrong translation of the Hebrew word koran, which means “to 
shoot out beams of light.” Some one read it “to wear horns” 
(see Exodus, xxxiv, 35). 

“Moses” is in the church of St. Peter in Chains, Rome. 


84 



Fig. 42. Moses. Michael Angelo. S. Pietro in Vincoli, Rome 








EROS 


T HE people of Italy called Eros “Cupid.” Cupid was the 
son of Venus, the goddess of love. A queer legend is told 
of Venus. It is said that she complained to the goddess 
of law, Themis, that her little son Cupid was always a child. 
Themis answered that Cupid was lonesome and needed a brother 
to play with. When his brother Anteros came, Cupid began to 
grow like other children. 

This beautiful statue of Cupid, or Eros, in the Vatican, Rome, 

is probably one of many copies of a statue made by the master 

* • 

Praxiteles. Old writers say that Praxiteles made a statue of Eros 
that he prized very much. A beautiful young Greek woman called 
Phryne said that Praxiteles had promised to give her his most 
beautiful statue but that he did not fulfil his promise. Phryne 
grew impatient and one day sent her slave to tell Praxiteles that 
his studio was on fire. Praxiteles was wild when he heard this 
false alarm. He rushed out exclaiming that all his labor was 
lost if his “Satyr 1 ' and “Eros” were lost. The sculptor must 
have given Phryne the “Eros” often called “The Genius of the 
Vatican,” for Pausanias wrote, nearly two thousand years ago, 
that Phrvne claimed the original of “Eros.” She took it to her 
native home, Thespiae, where it was placed between statues of 
Phryne and Aphrodite, both by Praxiteles. 

In Cicero’s time (106-43 b. c.) the “Eros” was still in the 
temple in Thespiae. Nero took it to Rome during the century 
in which Jesus, the Christ, was born. The “Eros” was placed 
in the portico of Octavia, Octavia was the sister of Augustus 
Caesar. While Titus (see page 44) was emperor of Rome this • 
portico and everything in it were destroyed by a fire. 

The “Satyr” that Praxiteles wished to save when Phryne gave 
the false alarm of fire was the original of “The Marble Faun” 
in the next picture. 


86 



Courtesy of Pratt Institute 

Fig. 43 


Eros from Centocelle. Vatican Museum, Rome 



THE MARBLE FAUN 


T HIS “Marble Faun,” sometimes called “The Satyr Rest¬ 
ing,” is a copy of the original “Satyr” of Praxiteles. 
You remember that Phryne deceived the sculptor into be¬ 
lieving all his labor was lost if his “Eros” and “Satyr” were 
burned. “The Marble Faun” is in the Capitol Museum, Rome, 
by the side of “The Dying Gaul” (see page 42). 

Ancient sculptors loved to carve satyrs, especially for foun¬ 
tains. Satyrs were gods of the woods and fields. They wandered 
about to give greater growth to vegetables and grain and trees. 
They were the children of Mercury (Hermes) and the Nereids, 
goddesses of the breezes. At first the satyrs were covered with 
bristly hair and had two horns and pointed ears and goat-like 
feet. But later they became fauns and were gladsome, frolicsome 
creatures. Children loved them, and so did the grown people. 

When you read Hawthorne’s “Marble Faun” you will find 
that in the first chapter Hilda, Miriam, Kenyon and Donatello 
are standing before this “Marble Faun,” in the Capitol Museum, 
when Kenyon, the sculptor, said, 

“Donatello, my dear friend, pray gratify us all by taking the 
exact attitude of this statue.” And then he added, as Donatello 
took the attitude, “Yes, the resemblance is wonderful.” All three 
of them then tried to see if Donatello’s ears were pointed like 
those in the statue. But Donatello would not lift his curls to 
satisfy their curiosity. 


88 





Fig. 44. The Marble Faun. Capitol Museum, Rome 




PSYCHE 


P OOR Psyche! Her beauty and her curiosity brought her 
great sorrow. Venus saw Psyche’s beauty and was jeal¬ 
ous. “No mortal,’’ cried Venus, “has a right to be as 
beautiful as I, a goddess, am.” Venus planned to humiliate 
Psyche. She sent for her son, Cupid—unwise mother! She 
told him to take one of his arrows and wound Psyche with a love 
for some one beneath her in social standing. But when Cupid 
saw Psyche his arrow smote his own heart, and he, the god, loved 
Psyche, the mortal. Now trouble began! 

Cupid married Psyche and took her to his castle, where every 
wish was granted her save one: she must never see her husband’s 
face. All went well until Psyche’s sisters came to see her. At 
first they made Psyche curious about her husband’s looks; then 
suspicious of him; then jealous. They told her they had heard 
he was a monster and that some dark night he would kill her. 
Then they went home, the envious sisters. Poor Psyche! she 
thought over what the sisters had told her, and at last she stole 
into Cupid’s room one night, and, leaning over him with her 
lighted lamp, she saw his wonderful beauty. In her surprise and 
shame that she had mistrusted her husband, she spilled some hot 
oil on his lovely neck. His beautiful eyes opened, and he looked 
reproachfully into hers. Without a word he flew out of the win¬ 
dow. She called. She tried to follow but fell in the dust. He 
stopped long enough to say: “Love cannot abide with suspi¬ 
cion.” Poor Psyche! For years she was the slave of Venus, but 
at last almighty Zeus forgave her. Zeus said, as he gave her a 
cup of Ambrosia: 

“Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever 
break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials 
shall be perpetual.” 

This marred and broken statue of Psyche, in the Naples 
Museum, is the most precious picture we have of Psyche. It is 
just possible that the great Praxiteles himself made it. 

90 




Fig. 45. Psyche. Naples Museum 




THESEUS 

Phidias (500P-432? b. c.) 


T HESEUS was a great national hero. He rid his country 
of more terrible monsters than any other hero except Her¬ 
cules (see page 78), but Hercules was a god and 
Theseus was a man. 

One time when Theseus was a very young man he visited his 
father, the king of Athens. He was told that every year his 
father had to send to Minos, King of Crete, seven young girls 
and seven young boys. Theseus found that these young people 
were fed to the monster Minotaur that lived in a labyrinth on the 
island. Theseus determined that he would kill the monster. He 
offered himself as one of the seven boys to be sent to Crete. When 
they landed on the island King Minos and his daughter Ariadne 
came to receive the yearly offering. 

When Ariadne saw Theseus she loved him and believed in him. 
She gave him a sword and a spool of thread by which to find 
his way out of the labyrinth. We can imagine how confident 
Theseus was as with his sword he led his companions into the 
secret place. When they came to the monster bull with a human 
face Theseus cut off his head with his sword. Then Theseus 
with his companions found their way out of the labyrinth by hold¬ 
ing fast to the thread Theseus had unwound as they went in. 

Theseus sailed for home with Ariadne; but I will tell you that 
story next. 

The statue of Theseus in the British Museum is the only figure 
left with a head from among all the statues from the great Par¬ 
thenon at Athens, made by Phidias, the Greek sculptor. 


92 



Fig. 46. Theseus. Phidias. 


British Museum, London 







SLEEPING ARIADNE 


A S we look at this most beautiful statue of the “Sleeping 
Ariadne,” in the Vatican, Rome, we cry out in pity, 
“O Ariadne! why did you go to sleep?” 

When Theseus sailed away from Crete with Ariadne (see page 
92) he stopped at the island of Naxos, on business, I suppose. 
While he was away, Ariadne, waiting for him, must have gone to 
sleep. When Theseus was ready to leave the island and go on 
with his journey he came for Ariadne but found her sleeping. 
Instead of waking her, the ungrateful man sailed away without 
her. 

When Ariadne awakened from her sleep she was alone, deserted 
by the man she had saved. Her grief was very great, but Venus 
felt sorry and went to Ariadne. The goddess promised that an 
immortal lover should be her husband; then she left her. Ariadne 
was still mourning when Bacchus found her. He gave her as a 
bridal present a wonderful golden crown set with diamonds. 
When Ariadne died Bacchus threw this beautiful crown into the 
sky, and we may see it at night as one of the most brilliant con¬ 
stellations in the northern heavens. 

Naxos was a favorite island of Bacchus or Dionysus, the god 
of wine, and is still celebrated for its wonderful wines. 


94 










THE FARNESE BULL 


T WO brothers who lived in the island of Rhodes about 100 
b. c. made this strange group of statues called “The 
Farnese Bull.” The group was taken to Rome about the 
year 4 a. d. It disappeared for centuries after the fall of Rome, 
and not until 1546 was it found in the Baths of Caracalla, Rome. 
Though very badly broken, the group showed a careful finish of 
each statue, which meant that it originally stood in an open space. 

The sculptors have told a strange story, a story I want you to 
know. Legend says that once upon a time a mother, the queen 
of Thebes, Greece, whose name was Antiope, had twin sons, 
Amphion and Zethus. Their father was the mighty Zeus. The 
sons were born on Mount Cithaeron, where they were cared for by 
shepherds. The sons grew up without knowing their parents. 

Antiope was the rightful queen of Thebes, but Lycus stole the 
throne from her. He married the wicked Dirce and made Antiope 
the slave of Dirce. At last Antiope ran away to Mount Cithaeron 
but, as fate would have it, just at that time Dirce went to Mount 
Cithaeron to celebrate a festival. When she saw Antiope she, 
Dirce, sent for Antiope’s sons. The sons were followers of the 
wicked queen Dirce. They knew nothing of their mother Antiope 
or of the wickedness of Dirce. Dirce told them to bring a wild 
bull and tie this woman—their own mother—to its horns and 
set the bull free to drag her to death. Just as they were carrying 
out Dirce's orders word came to them—I suspect from Zeus—that 
the woman was their mother. In righteous anger they turned 
and seized Dirce. In this sculptured group you see them tying 
the wicked Dirce to the horns instead of their mother Antiope. 

Some authorities believe that the figure of Antiope, standing 
back of the two sons, the bull, and Dirce, was added after the 
group was made by the brothers, Apollonius and Tauriscus. 
Study the group carefully and pick out the interesting figures. 

96 






Fig. 48. The Farnese Bull. Naples Museum 








FATHER NILE 


T HE river Nile, one of the longest rivers in the world, rises 
down in the very center of Africa in Lake Victoria 
Nyanza. When the sno\ys begin to melt in the African 
mountains then the Nile, filled with water and mud, rushes to 
the north through Egypt where it used to overflow its banks once 
a year. Now the overflow is regulated by men who have charge 
of the water-supply. 

Last August, when I was in Cairo, Egypt, the Nile was full of 
brown muddy water swirling and tossing in its mad rush to the 
Mediterranean Sea. In a few days the muddy water was ready 
to run over its banks and spread its thick mass of fertilizing mud 
over the fields of Egypt along the Nile. This mud makes a 
rich harvest for the Egyptians. 

When the sculptor—his name is forgotten—made this statue 
of “Father Nile,” about the third century b. c., there may have 
been nothing to control the untamed Nile in its rush to the sea. 
You will find by counting the little children climbing over huge 
Father Nile that there are sixteen of them. Sixteen refers to the 
measure, possibly in feet, of the rise of the water. The little 
tots at the feet of Father Nile are playing in the ooze and slime 
with the crocodiles, trying to find food. The scant overflow has 
brought a very light harvest. As the water creeps up the sides of 
Father Nile the children grow happier and fill their hands with 
vegetables and fruits. When the water reaches all sixteen the 
little fellow at the top has climbed into the cornucopia filled 
with lucious fruit. 

To-day a big dam at Assuan controls the overflow of the Nile. 
The people along the Nile no longer fear a famine even if the 
snow and rain do fail in the mountains of Africa two thousand 
miles away. 


98 








Fig. 49. Father Nile. Vatican Museum, Rome 


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ABRAHAM LINCOLN 


BY 

Gutzon Borglum (1867— ) 

T HE children love this statue. It is on the sidewalk in 
front of the Essex County Court-House, Newark, New 
Jersey. Here the children can sit by the side of Abraham 
Lincoln, the man they love, or climb on his knee or into his em¬ 
bracing arms. We all love this great-hearted man who was once 
a little child. Let us sit here beside him while I retell one of 
the stories of his boyhood days. 

The boys all called him “Abe.” But a rough gang began call¬ 
ing him “High” to torment him. Lincoln did not like the new 
name, for he felt the boys were poking fun at his great height. 
He avoided these boys, but the town miller knew it was not from 
fear. He said, “Abe, take the bucket; go down to the spring and 
get some fresh water for me.” Slowly he did as he was bidden. 

The gang was down there. One of them called out, “Here 
comes High!” He paid no attention but filled his bucket and 
started back. One of the boys, Carl, said, “High, I have dropped 
my knife into the spring; the water is too deep for me to get it, 
but your long arms can reach it easy enough.” Still he said 
nothing even when the boy grabbed his sleeve and tore it. 

Very quietly Abe set down his bucket, took the boy in his long 
arms, carried him to the spring, and dipped him head foremost 
into the water. When he lifted him out the boy held the lost 
knife in his wet hand. Then Lincoln said to the boy, “When 
your father has a piece of timber too short, he splices it; so I had 
to splice my arm by using yours.” He picked up his bucket and 
went back to the miller. 

“No, sir,” he answered the miller, “I wasn’t fighting; I was 
helping Carl get his knife out of the spring.” The gang never 
called him “High” again. 


100 






Courtesy of the Sculptor 

Fig. 50. Abraham Lincoln. Gutzon Borglum. Newark, New Jersey 


. v.. 







INDEX 


Abydos, Egypt, 14 
Acropolis, Athens, 16 
Agamemnon, 26 
Alcott, Louise May, 18 
Althea, Queen, 58 
Angelo, Michael, 8, 68, 84 
Asia Minor, 6, 40, 42, 60 
Assyria, 34 
Asurbanipal, King, 34 
Augustus Caesar, 86 

Babylon, 34 
Bambino, 2 

Barye, Antoine Louis, 52 
Biscornette, 48 
Boethus, 10, 36 
Borglum, Gutzon, 100 
British Museum, 34, 94 

Cairo Museum, 14. 70 

Calydon, 56, 58 

Candlestick, 44 

Canova, Antonio, 54 

Capitol Museum, 26, 38, 42, 74, 88 

Carthage, 44 

Caryatides, 14 

Cheops, (Khufu), 14 

Chephren, King, 80 

Chosroes, King, 44 

Colleoni, Bartolommeo, 22 

Cicero, 86 

Constantine, 30 

Dante, Alighieri, 12 
David, 18, 68 
Delphi, Greece, 24 
Donatello, 64, 88 

Egypt, 14, 34, 56, 70, 80 
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 18 
Ephesus, 42 


Fates, 58 
Fogg Museum, 78 
French, Daniel Chester, 18 
Foundling Hospital, 2 

Gargoyles, 48 
Gaul, 42, 88 
Genseric, King, 44 
Goliath, 68 

Gods and Goddesses 
Achilles, 26 
Action, 26 
Antiope, 96 

Apollo, 24, 40, 60, 62, 72 
Argus, 82 
Ariadne, 92', 94 
Atalanta, 58 

Bacchus (Dionysus), 60, 94 
Cupid (Eros), 24, 86, 88, 90 
Danae, 54 
• Daphne, 24 

Diana (Selene, Artemis), 24, 26, 38, 
40, 58 
Dirce, 96 
Echo, 76 
Endvmion, 38 
Fauns, 42, 86, 88 
Hercules, 32, 78 
To, 82 

Juno (Hera), 4, 6, 50, 76, 78, 82 

Laocoon, 6, 8 

Latona, 24, 40 

Mars (Ares), 74 

Medusa, 54 

Meleager, 58 

Mercury (Hermes), 54, 72, 82, 88 
Minotaur, 58, 92 

Minerva (Pallas Athene), 4, 6, 8, 
50,. 54 

Narcissus, 76 


102 


Neptune, 8, 50 
Nike (Victory), 46 
Niobe, 32, 40 
CEdipus, 80 
Paris, 4, 6 
Pegasus, 72 
Perseus, 54 
Psyche, 90 
Satyrs, 86, 88 
Silenus, 60 
Sphinx, 80 
Themis, 86 

Venus (Aphrodite), 4, 6, 86, 90, 
Zeus (Jove, Jupiter), 4, 24, 32, 
50, 54, 72, 78, 82, 90, 96 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 88 
Helen of Troy, 4 
Homer, 4, 6, 32 

Iliad and Odyssey, 6 
Ipigenia, 26 

Jerusalem, 44 

Jesus, the Christ, 16, 30, 74, 86 
Jonah, 34 
Julius II, 84 

Latmos, Mount, 38 
Lemnos, Mount, 50 
Leonidas, King, 16 
Leopardi, 22' 

Lincoln, Abraham, 28, 100 
Louis XVIII of France, 4 
Louvre Museum, Paris, 4, 30, 46 
Lycus, King, 96 

Maspero, G, 70 

Medici, 40 

Melos, Island of, 4 

Menelaus, King, 6 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, 12 

Mereruka, 56 

Midas, 60 

Milmore. Martin, 18 

Moses, 84 

Mount Ida, 4 

Mummius, 3 ° 

Munich, Museum, 36 
Myron, 20 


94 

38 , 


Naples Museum, 72, 96 

Napoleon, 30 

Nero, 86 

Nicias, 62 

Nile River, 98 

Nineveh, 34 

Notre Dame, Paris, 48 

Octavia, 86 
Odyssey and Iliad, 6 
Olymphia, 32, 82 

Pactolus River, 60 
Palermo Museum, 66 
Park, Lincoln, 28 
Parnassus, 24 
Parthenon, 50, 92 
Pergamus, 42 
Pericles, 18, 50 
Persian, 16 
Petrie, Sir linders, 14 
Phidias, 50, 92 
Phryne, 86 
Plataea, Greece, 16 
Pliny, Elder, 10, 36 
Poliorcetes, Demetrius, 46 
Polydectes, King, 54 
Pompeii, 10, 36 
Praxiteles, 62, 82, 86, 88, 90 
Pyramid, 14 

Rhea Silvia, 74 
Robbia, Andrea della, 2 
Robbia, Luca della, 2, 64 
Rockerfeller, John D., 14 

Rodin, Auguste, 12 
Romulus and Remus, 74 

Saint-Gaudens, Augusta, 28 
Samothrace, 46 
Sargent, John Singer, 14 
Schliemann, Henry, 6 
Scopas, 40 
Sparta, Greece, 6 


Taft, Lorado, 28 
Thebes, Greece, 40 
Thermopylae, 16 
Theseus, 58, 92, 94 

103 


Thothmes IV. 80 
Titus, 44, 86 

Trojan War, 4, 6, 8, 26, 32, 58 
Uffizi Museum, Florence, 32, 40, 56, 68 
Vatican Museum, Rome, 20, 24, 58, 62 


Verrocchio, Andrea, 22 
Vesuvius, 10, 36 
Virgil, 74 

Whistler, James Abbott McNeill, 12 
Xerxes, 16, 50 


104 


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